


Letter to Beatrice

by Eastofthemoon



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2639333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastofthemoon/pseuds/Eastofthemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Safely back home Wirt tries to adjust to his new goals in life, except he can’t help but wish he could talk to Beatrice again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter to Beatrice

**Author's Note:**

> My friend had been poking me to write an Over The Garden Wall fic for her, thus it resulted in this. Be warned, there are spoilers in this if you haven't seen the full series yet.

Wirt drummed his fingers on his desk as he read over the pages of the book. “Nothing here, either,” he muttered with a sigh. “Course, this be a lot easier if I had her last name...if she has a last name.”

“What are you doing, Wirt?”

Wirt jumped and turned his head. “Greg, how many times do I have to ask you?” he said as his little brother entered his room. “Knock before entering, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” Greg said as he peered over his desk and pointed to the pile of books. “But what are you doing? Are you building a book tower?” He frowned as he scratched his chin. “If you are, you should get some toy soldiers to guard it from a book worm invasion.”

Wirt chuckled. “Naw, it’s not that,” he flipped opened one of the books to show Greg. “I was just trying to do research on the town history.”

“Oh?” Greg asked, intrigued. “Why? Homework?”

Wirt shook his head. “I was trying to see if I could find any information on Beatrice and her family,” he frowned as his leaned back in his chair defeated. “But it’s nearly impossible since I have no idea what her last name is..or was.”

Greg glanced back at him puzzled as his folded his arms. “But Wirt, Beatrice and her family don’t live in town, they live in the Unknown.”

Wirt rubbed the back of his neck. He still hadn’t told Greg what he figured out, especially after going back to the graveyard and seeing the names on the gravestones. The Unknown was some kind of limbo between this world and the afterlife. Maybe it even was the afterlife. All the people they met there were probably dead. He and Greg had almost stayed there because they had been at death’s door itself. Wirt honestly wasn’t sure when he should tell Greg, or not. How would you explain that to a kid? If anything, Wirt didn’t to touch the subject until he was older.

“I just have a feeling she and her family use to leave here,” Wirt said, “like a long time ago. That’s all.”

“Oh,” Greg said and gave a solemn nod. “You mean when she was alive. That makes more sense.”

Wirt choked, nearly falling out of his chair and stared at his little brother in shock. “Greg, you know that...where we were, they-”

“Were all dead?” Greg asked and shrugged. “Yeah, I thought that was obvious.”

Wirt buried his face into his hands, unsure if he should laugh or cry. Course Greg figured it out. He really need to stop underestimating the kid. Greg was the reason Wirt was able to get back from the Unknown in one piece. No matter how much Greg insisted Wirt had saved him, he would forever argue it was the other way around.

“You okay, Wirt?” Greg asked as he tugged his brother’s sleeve.

“I’m fine,” Wirt replied as he patted his brother’s head. “Just thinking about a few things.”

Greg pulled up a spare chair and took a seat. “What made you think of Beatrice anyway? Do you miss her?” He leaned against the desk. 

“Yeah, but I mostly just wish I knew if she and her family were able to break the curse,” Wirt said. Well, that was half the reason. Honestly, he missed talking to her. Sure, she could be stubborn and grouchy at times, but she was blunt with her heart in the right place. At times, she could read Wirt better than he could himself. 

Despite almost betraying them to Adelaide, Beatrice redeemed herself by saving both Wirt and helped find Greg. Truth was, they wouldn’t have been able to come back without her. Wirt owed her a lot.

“Why don’t you just write her a letter and ask?” Greg asked, tilting his head with an expression a questioning puppy would have.

“And how would we send it?” Wirt asked as he added the close book to the pile. “Last I checked, there was no postal service to the Unknown.” Well, maybe if you happened to catch someone you was about to die, but he wasn’t about to go asking around town that. 

Greg rolled his eyes like it was as simple as making a phone call. “You just write her name on the envelope and the letter will send itself.”

“Greg, I just said we had now way to get it there,” Wirt said, gently and taking a deep breath. Since they got back, Wirt had promised himself to be more patient with Greg. He was getting better at it, but he still had to keep himself in check.

“But writing your name is all you have to do,” Greg repeated. “It works for Santa, doesn’t it?”

Wirt opened and shut his mouth. He tugged at his shirt collar uncomfortably Oh...this was NOT a topic he wanted to get into. “Greg, it’s not quite the same-”

“Why? Santa’s magic and all his letters go to him no matter what. It’s a rock fact!” Greg stated firmly. “So, since the Unknown is magical, it should work the same way.”

Wirt was ready to debate, but paused as he mulled it over. Greg did have a point. Was it possible he was overthinking it? Logically it didn’t make sense, but the Unknown hardly followed the rules of logic.

“Boys!” Wirt turned his head in time to hear his stepfather knock at the door and poke his head in. “Your mother wants you to come down for dinner.”

“Okay, Simon,” Wirt replied as he pushed back his chair. “Be right there.”

Greg grinned as he bounced to the floor. “Is it candy canes and jelly like I asked for?”

Simon chuckled as he poked Greg’s nose. “Sorry, Kiddo. I tried to haggle for you, but it’s meatloaf.”

“Oh, well,” Greg said as he hopped into the hallway. “Next time I should get our frog to haggle. He has a knack for it.”

Simon chuckled as he looked back to Wirt. “I have no idea where he gets that imagination from.”

“Y-Yeah,” Wirt said as he rubbed the back of his neck. He still felt awkward talking to Simon. Before, he had tried to keep talking with his stepfather to a minimum. Wirt had become a master at only giving mere glances as they passed in the hallway and kept his sentences being “Yeah, sure, whatever,” during conversations at the dinner table.

That was before his trip to the Unknown, before Wirt’s eyes had been opened and he realized people were more than what they seemed. A person couldn’t be categorized into simple categories of good or bad. He thought he had the whole world figured out, but it turned out he barely knew anything.

Simon cleared his throat. “Well, let’s not keep your mom and brother waiting.”

“Uh, wait, Simon,” Wirt said as he tugged his stepfather’s sleeve. “I need to tell you something.”

Simon eyes narrowed and he gave a concerned frown. “You feeling, okay? The doctors did say to be careful-”

“Oh, no! No! I’m fine,” Wirt added quickly. Last thing Wirt wanted was to scare both Simon and his mother again. Wirt had never seen them so frightened when they had arrived at the hospital. Both his mother and Simon had roped the brothers into their arms. If their were able, Wirt was certain they would have hold on them forever.

“It’s just, I’ve uh…,” Wirt stammered and took a deep breath. No turning back now. One of the vows he made for himself was that he would try more. Doing nothing in his life was far worse than trying and failing. “I’ve decided to join the marching band.”

Simon stared puzzled, like Wirt had spoken in a different language. His eyes lit up as the meaning of Wirt’s words stuck him and he gave a surprised smile. 

“Oh, really?! That’s great, Sport!” He smiled as he slapped his large hand on Wirt’s shoulders causing him to nearly stumble.

“Uh, thanks,” he replied as he struggled to maintain his balance. He really wished Simon would learn restraint.

Simon frowned as he steadied Wirt. “But what changed your mind all of a sudden?” He sighed sheepishly. “I know I’ve been poking you to do it, but you shouldn’t be doing it just to make me happy-”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Wirt said as he chewed his bottom lip. “It’s just...I’ve come to realize I’m a lot braver than I thought I was.” Seriously, if he could face down the Beast, witches, a bone eating evil spirit, and a mad gorilla than he could face trying out for the marching band...Although, the thought of everyone looking at him while he played still made him queasy inside.

Simon’s lips formed a tight light, probably assuming Wirt meant about him and Greg almost drowning in the river and gave a nod. “It’s good to try new things.” He laughed. “I know I was a nervous wreck when I joined the marching band.”

Wirt blinked, stunned. “You were in the marching band?”

“Well, yeah, I told you.” Simon raised an eyebrow, “you weren’t listening were you?”

“Um…,” Wirt muttered unsure how to say ‘I got into a habit of tuning you out’ that wouldn’t come across as insulting. “I..um.”

Simon laughed as he ruffled Wirt’s hair. “Ah, don’t worry about it, but yeah I was in the band. Haven’t played for years though. Did find playing in a band really helped me come out of my shy. I was quite shy when I was your age.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Wirt said with a raised eyebrow. The only person Wirt had ever seen able to match the energy levels of his stepfather was Greg. It was hard to picture either of them as ‘shy.’ Although, now Wirt was curious.

“What instrument did you play?” he asked.

“Bassoon,” Simon said with a shrug, “not quite the same as a clarinet, but I’ve always liked it.”

Wirt forced himself to not break out laughing, but failed to the grin on his face. His stepfather stared at him suspiciously. “Care to fill me in on the joke?”

“It’s nothing, private joke with a friend,” he said, “and I’ve recently learn to appreciate the fine qualities of a bassoon.”

Simon still looked baffled, however he shook it off with a shrug. “Come on, let’s get to dinner before Greg eats all the bread rolls again.”

Wirt gave a smile as he followed his stepfather down to the dining room.

08080808080808080808080808080808

Wirt clutched the letter in his hands. The wind played at his hair as he approached the graveyard like it was encouraging Wirt. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered as he walked past the gravestones. Greg would have come if Wirt asked him, but he wanted to do this on his own. Besides, he didn’t want to drag Greg away from introducing his friends to their new frog. The kids were laughing as Greg insisted their frog could indeed sing. The winds were also high today and Wirt didn’t know when a chance would come again.

Wirt tightened the wooly scarf around his next neck as he approached the wall. All the leaves had been blown off the trees leaving them bare and ready for the expecting snow that was to arrive soon. Wirt ran his fingers over neatly printed letters of Beatrice’s name. 

“Here goes,” Wirt said as he held up the letter. The wind brushed over it, playing as if it was a leftover leaf from a tree. He waited until he felt a strong breeze and let go. Wirth watched, his heart racing as the wind toyed with the letter like a kite until it flew straight over the wall.

Wirth let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. “Hope you get it Beatrice,” he said, as he turned back to head home.

08080808080808080808080808080808080

Over in the realms of the Unknown, Beatrice grunted as she lifted the bucket out of the wall. “That should do it,” she whispered and poured the water into her bucket. She sighed happily as she admired the dirt in her fingernails. Beatrice had never thought she be so happy to have dirty hands. They were certainly easier to wash than feathers.

Suddenly, something smacked her in the face. “Hey!” she cried as she fell backwards on her butt. Beatrice growled as the object fell into her lap. “What on earth, was-” She lost her voice as she saw it was a letter. Stranger still, it was addressed to her.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow as she picked up the letter and tore it open. “Weird, who would be sending me a letter?” She got her answer as she read the first line and her eyes softened. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered in a warm tone as she read the letter.

_Dear Beatrice,_

_How are are you? Greg and I miss you a lot. Did you break the curse on your family? I hope you did. I’ve joined the marching band and I’ve even started to play with my step-dad. (He’s really out of practice, but I find earplugs help with that.)_

_Oh, and I’ve started talking to Sara. I don’t know if we’ll start dating or anything, but we’re taking it slow for now._

Beatrice chuckled. “Typical Wirt,” she said softly with a smile and read the rest.

_I don’t know if this letter will reach you, but if it does I want you to know I’m grateful to have met you. Greg and I wouldn’t have gotten home without your help._

“I don’t know about that,” Beatrice said to the letter like she expected it to reply. She still felt terrible about almost handing them to that creepy witch. Looking back, Wirt wasn’t the only one to have changed. Beatrice had too.

_Anyway, I hope we can meet again someday. Take care of your family._

_Sincerely, your friend,_

_Wirt_

_P.S. Greg says if you want to write back, just write a letter with my name on it. His idea, not mine._

“Sounds like Greg,” Beatrice said. She sat in thought, reading the letter three more times as she came to a decision. She picked up her bucket and carried it home with her with the letter securely tucked into her pocket. Once she was home, she made certain her brothers and sisters weren’t around. If they found out about the letter, they tease her relentlessly and it be three times worse if her mother saw it.

Beatrice snuck into her room and leaned against the door with a sigh. She removed letter out of her pocket and delicately carried it as she went to her desk. The letter was then placed and locked into her jewellery box and Beatrice proceeded to take out a fresh sheet of paper. Staring at the blank sheet, Beatrice breathed deeply as she picked up her ink pen and started to write.

08080808080808080808080808080808080808080

Two weeks had passed since Wirt had written the letter, but there was still nothing. He had held a glimmer of hope that if the letter did get through to Beatrice she might be able to write back. However, nothing came. Wirt was disappointed, but he knew it had been a small chance to begin with. He would just have to accept he wouldn’t hear from Beatrice again and assume she was doing alright.

Wirt had come to this conclusion as he entered the kitchen. Yet, all thoughts disappeared from his head as he caught his little brother poking his head into the fire place. 

“Greg, what are you doing?” he asked as he approached, with his arms folded. “Mom’s already told you, gnomes don’t live in chimneys.”

“I know,” Greg said as he pulled out of the fireplace and brushed the soot off his pants, “but I was just picking it up.”

“Pick what up?” Wirt asked.

“This!” Greg said as he held up a letter in triumph. “It blew down the chimney!” He grinned as he looked it over. “And it has your name on it.”

“Huh?” Wirt blinked as the letter was waved into his face. No way, it couldn’t be. “Greg, let me see that.”

Greg handed it over and sat next to Wirt as he frantically tore it open. “I don’t believe,” he said as he read it over. “It’s from Beatrice.”

“Ha! See,” Greg said as he nodded. “Told you it was easy!”

“Yes, yes you can hold that over my head too,” Wirt replied with a smirk.

“What does it say?” Greg said, curiously.

Wirt smiled and read it aloud.

_Dear Wirt,_

_I’m not very good at these things. I’m human again, and so is my family. I hate to admit it, but I do miss flying a little bit. My mom keeps wanting to know if you’re doing okay. She’ll be happy to know you made it home._

_I’m not sure what else to write, but just so you know, I’m grateful I met you too...you mistake of nature._

Wirt rolled his eyes. Same old Beatrice.

_Anyway, I do miss you and Greg a lot. I don’t know how, but I’m sure someday we’ll get to see each other again. Till then, try not to get into any trouble. I like to see you again in one piece._

_Sincerely, your amazing friend,_

_Beatrice_

_P.S. I taught my little brothers and sisters Greg’s Potatoes and Molasses song and they won’t stop singing it. Worst mistake ever._

Wirt laughed. “Sounds like she’s doing okay.”

“Yeah,” Greg replied as he leaned into Wirt’s side. “Can I send a letter this time? I want to draw a picture with it.”

“Sure,” Wirt replied as he wrapped an arm around him. “I’m sure she liked that.”

The brothers smiled as each other and thought of their friend, who while was far away would never leave their hearts.


End file.
